


Ribbons of Darkness, Ribbons of Light - Epilogue

by DixieDale



Series: The Life and Times of One Peter Newkirk [60]
Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas, Hogan's Heroes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 13:35:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15365808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: Just a closer look at that fateful last hour in the life of General Robert Hogan.This is included in both Hogan's Heroes string as well as Garrison's Gorillas, due to the impact of Hogan on both groups of men and their families.





	Ribbons of Darkness, Ribbons of Light - Epilogue

He strode into the big room just like he entered any room, like he owned it. Well, he did, in a way. There wasn't a person there he didn't know, couldn't walk up to with full confidence in his welcome, couldn't get whatever he wanted from that person with just the right words, the sure and certainly touch of manipulation that he did so well. It was so satisfying, knowing he held them in the palm of his hand, knowing there wasn't anything they would deny him. Sometimes he thought he could do anything, could pull out a gun and shoot some random someone in the streets, and be able to convince everyone it was fine, really had been for the best. 

Well, perhaps not General Abernathy, over there talking with the Senator from New York. For some bizarre reason, Abernathy was affiliated with that ridiculous and infuriating lot over in that small village in England, along with Newkirk and that woman up in Wales. Oh, Hogan knew what the General's men had told him, "his son, his god-children, his family". Well, he knew that was hogwash! He'd checked the records; the General was a life-long bachelor, no living family. Why the man would claim any of that disreputable lot, seek to interfere with Hogan on their behalf, that was a mystery! 

Hogan almost frowned, but stopped himself. Always a smile, that was the rule, for a gathering like this. Sometimes an amused smile, sometimes a knowing smile, sometimes an encouraging one, but not a frown. Still, the sight of General Abernathy was a burr against his skin, irritating him, making him remember that gathering where he'd had such plans for making Newkirk and that woman pay - Newkirk for betraying him, rejecting what Hogan had offered him, her for being the one Newkirk turned to instead of him.

He'd made other plans, too, once he saw the boys, Peter's son and the other one, Garrison's boy probably, though there was some question there. Of course, THOSE plans would have to be implemented later, but for that moment, he'd been poised to spread some dirty laundry out in front of the entire company, tell them a few things that would cause Newkirk and that female to be less welcome in their midst.

Instead, the whole group, including the others from his own Command Team, had defied him. That smug village constable had braced him, called him a trespasser, was openly amused when Hogan had demanded "do you know who I am?", had made some smartass remark in return. And then suddenly Abernathy was standing there. The General had basically scolded Hogan, shoo'd him away like he was nobody, as if he were just an annoying interruption, told him to go away and not bother any of them again. No, he wouldn't be approaching General Abernathy, and would be on the lookout for the other man as well; this was no place for a confrontation. He didn't want Abernathy taking any additional notice of him, not til he had the boys firmly in hand. 

He'd be speaking with that international law group when he left Washington tomorrow; he'd done enough reading now to know he had grounds to have them file to remove the boys, putting himself forward as a more fitting guardian than any of that crew. Well, the money would help, along with his reputation, his influence and connections. Guardianship should come quickly and easily.

Not in his own home, of course. His wife, beautiful, wealthy, well-connected Helen, she might get suspicious, kick up a fuss. And besides, it wasn't like he spent a lot of time there anyway, not since she had decided to get their own children so involved in activities and camps and special classes and visits to her own family that they were rarely even there when he made the occasional trip home.

Sometimes he wondered about that, wondered if she was doing it on purpose, keeping him away from them, but had decided that wasn't the case, knew she just wasn't smart enough for that. He hadn't married her for her brains, just her position and her money. Her looks had been a plus, of course, but frankly, beautiful women were a dime a dozen for someone like him. Most likely she just didn't want to be bothered with the kids.

No, those two boys, Jamie and Randy he'd heard their names were, so different in appearance, one tall with dark hair and blue-green eyes, the other short with blond hair and emerald green eyes - such handsome boys, more than handsome even. For them he'd find another place, someplace more convenient to where he was stationed now; get in a housekeeper who'd be understanding, private tutors so the school systems wouldn't be involved, whatever else was needed; it would be easy enough to arrange. They both had such potential, could achieve such great things, with the right training, with the right hands on the reins. 

He'd come to the conclusion, ever since he'd seen them, that that had been the real problem all along. That he'd been attempting to mold material that was just too old, to set in their ways, to be properly molded. There'd been others, certainly, a goodly number of them in fact, but somehow, his encouragement, his training, his firm guidance had never had the desired effect. They'd either broken, like Charlie, or their courage had waivered and cracked, like with Newkirk, not having the guts to stay with him, but turning and running to hide in someone else's shadow.

He didn't really count Klink; that was just an amusing sidebar to his wartime activities. Though it HAD been amusing, to see just how far he could push, lead, tempt the man; how deep of a control he could establish over a man supposedly controlling HIS activities as prison camp kommandant, a man already terrified of the Gestapo, his superiors, Berlin - really pretty well terrified of everything. It had been amusing to see if he could get Klink to the point of being more terrified of HIM than any of those others, get him to do things he probably would have sworn he'd never do. 

Well, now he was certain the problem was in selecting material already too set in a pattern. This time, this time he was sure he'd be successful. His methods were not at fault, he was sure of that; with the right material, yes, this time it would work. The smile on his face was real now, one of deep satisfaction, anticipation, and more than one around him noted it, thought again just what an attractive and congenial man General Robert Hogan was.

He spent some time with the Congressman from Virginia, along with a few others, then turned with a smile to greet one of his fellow officers who spoke to him.

"Well, Hogan. Are you in town for business or pleasure?"

"A bit of both, McCloud. We don't see you in Washington very often either, or maybe we just don't visit at the same time. It's been awhile; since Berlin, I think?"

General 'Mac' McCloud returned the smile, "Berlin, or maybe Lisbon; yes, I don't get back to Washington too often anymore. Thought I'd touch base with everyone while I'm in the area - have a niece near here, needed some avuncular advice on dealing with some personal matters."

They chatted awhile, and then McCloud extended one hand for a firm handshake, the other clasping Hogan's shoulder just for a moment. "Well, have to be going; need to have a word with Colonel Canterman before I leave." They smiled at each other, McCloud turning and walking briskly toward the small group along the side wall. 

There had been, right there at the end, something in his fellow officer's eyes that puzzled Hogan, something stern, implacable, but somehow just a little sad. Hogan made a mental note to think about that, later, figure out just what that meant.

Then the pain hit, the burning in his hand, in his shoulder, and he knew. He now knew he didn't have a 'later', knew what had happened. They'd discovered his plans, and had taken steps to stop him. He'd known they wouldn't just calmly step aside, but somehow he'd expected some big dramatic scene, if they had the balls to come up against him. A loud, heart-wrenching monologue of what they considered his offenses. HIS offenses! If that wasn't a laugh.

Well, it would have been a laugh if he'd retained enough air to laugh, which he didn't. He could feel the air thinning, making it so difficult to breath. Instead of a confrontation, something he could use to provide even more justification for his taking custody of those two boys, there had only been that almost sad look, the quick clasp of his shoulder, the firm handshake, then the tightening in his chest and in his throat, the chill of sweat running down his spine. {"McCloud??! Why him??!}

His life flashed before his eyes, and in the brief few seconds he had, somehow there was time enough for it all. How could someone like Robert Hogan, so obviously superior, so obviously destined for greatness, have been so shortchanged? He knew one thing, it was very unfair. Unfair for him to have been surrounded by those who failed to live up to his expectations. Unfair for him to have been denied his proper glory. Unfair for it to end this way.

He tried to speak, tried to say the words that would at least get revenge for this outrageous cutting short of his life, but found he could only make one faint sound, not enough to even catch the attention of the men standing next to him. Unfair, unfair, unfair - his last faint, fading thoughts - so damned unfair! His heart stopped before he hit the floor.

A woman, a female, standing there, looking at him, a deep chill in her eyes, judging him. Ribbons, filling the air, colors, light, bright, dark, black. Ribbons, dangling from the fan in her hand. Ribbons, streaming from her diadem headdress and from the wide belt she wore. Ribbons of darkness, ribbons of light.

How dare she judge him! Who did she think she was anyway? It wasn't that bitch who'd stolen Peter from him, and, it seems, Andrew as well, but in a different way. No, it wasn't her, or that bitch sister of hers who'd teamed up with Garrison and his hoods, but there was so much similiarity; they had to be related, though this one was older by a number of years. Stupid bitch! Well, she'd find out just who she was dealing with, she'd find out who . . . 

His thoughts failed as those ribbons reached out to engulf him, wrapping around him to form a cocoon, tightening, tightening, ever tighter. Til there was nothing but darkness left. When the ribbons loosened, uncoiled and returned to the one who'd worn them, there was nothing left to show General Robert Hogan had ever been there.

General McCloud sat in Elise's living room, having gone with her to the bank, to the lawyer's office, talked about how to deal with the real estate agent. "You look so tired, Uncle Mac. Maybe we should have put this off til tomorrow," she offered, along with the cup of coffee she'd just poured him.

"No, Elise, I'm fine. We needed to get all of this done before I head out."

"Well, I know yesterday had to be rough on you. Did you know him well, General Hogan, I mean?"

Mac McCloud's eyes were focused on something she couldn't see, "in some ways, yes, in others, no. He was a talented man, you know, with a great deal of potential. Such a waste."

He didn't consider he was lying to her; all of that was true. He and JaJa, (General Jeffrey Abernathy to those NOT as close to him as Mac was, as those of the Clan were) had discussed it all before they'd left their home, those side-by-side flats - Hogan HAD truly been a very talented man, had had a great deal of potential. What he'd used those talents, that potential for, well, that had been such a powerful and bizarre mixture of good and bad, you could hardly imagine them coming from the same man. A shame really. But the children were safer now, and not just the young ones; they were ALL theirs, his and JaJa's, in one way or another; they loved them all, and you did what you had to do to protect your family.


End file.
